


umikot man sa kawalan (ikaw lang ang kasagutan)

by theshipshipper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, post-season/series 8, sorta fluffy??? but sansa's a bit angsty too soooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13977984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipshipper/pseuds/theshipshipper
Summary: "I'm never sure of how I feel when it comes to you," she admits.He stills her hand with his own, the bandage falling loose on his arm as he moves her hand to his chest, right above his heart."You can be sure of this," he tells her, earnest. "This heart is beating for you, and you alone."--Day 14 (Bandaging Wounds) - 31 Days of Jonsa Challenge--Title from: Bawat Daan - Ebe Dancel





	umikot man sa kawalan (ikaw lang ang kasagutan)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in canon so forgive me if it sort of throws you off, haha. 
> 
> ps title is from a Filipino song and the only way I know to translate it (with justice) is this: Even if I search the ends of the earth (you're the only answer). It sounds cheesy in english but if anyone knows a better translation, feel free to comment. :D

 

 

Jon tried to keep his face impassive as Sansa cleaned his wound. It's not deep, just a scratch, really, almost nothing compared to wounds he'd accumulated over the years. In fact, his body is littered with such wounds.

He calls them scars, a constant reminder of his former life, yet they would never heal. He wouldn't even have noticed this new addition if the Queen in the North hadn't gone to the Courtyard herself to cease the training and had someone fetch the Maester for him.

He didn't think he needed any treatment, but having Sansa look at him so worriedly - hell, having Sansa look at him at all - is enough reason for him to go along with it.

She'd been avoiding him, and to his shame, had he known that getting hurt is what it'll take to get her to speak with him, then he would've tried it sooner.

He has tried to speak with her many a time, even matched his day with hers just to have a moment alone with her, and yet she would give him none. She would always claim that she has important matters to attend to and had none to spare.

He does not think she's lying but after a moon of avoidance, it's become clear that she'd fashioned her routine to ensure that each second is occupied to ward him off.

Yet when they're told the Maester is nowhere to be seen, Sansa had insisted she'd see to treating him herself, clearing her schedule enough to attend to him.

She must really be worried for him, then. It comes as a surprise to him, considering she'd spent more than a moon's turn pretending he didn't exist.

Does it mean anything? He wonders. Could it be that --

She'd avoided him ever since that night during the celebration of surviving the Long Night, just after he'd stolen a moment with her to speak. He'd told her then how he felt, he'd confessed that he loved her - that he was in love with her.

That night she'd even kissed him, and for a moment he thought that it meant something. But then she avoided him the days afterwards and it's become clear that she does not.

And now there they sat in her solar, with her just a breadth away as she attended to his wound, and he has to wonder again: does this mean anything?

"You're angry at me," he voiced out, plain, as she finished cleaning his wounded arm.

She doesn't seem to be angry; her face does not betray a single emotion for him to know anything about what she feels, but her avoidance of him is proof enough that she feels negatively about him.

"I'm not angry with you," she said, firm, before she releases a resigned sigh. "I don't -- " she cut herself off, as though unsure how to proceed.

"You're not certain?" He asked, frowning himself now as he watched her wrap a cloth around his arm.

There's confusion in her voice, and something else he can't pinpoint, but all his coherent thought falls away when she admits that, "I can never be certain of how I feel when it comes to you."

It could mean different things, to be sure, but he settles on a single possibility, the one where it means she might feel the same for him.

He stilled her hand with his own, the bandage falling loose on his arm as he moved her hand to his chest, placing it right above his heart.

"You can be sure of this," he assured her. "This heart is beating for you, and you alone."

She's staring at their enclasped hands, her mask cracking just a little to give him courage, and he's compelled to add, "Sansa, I look at this world and all I see is death and chaos. After all that happened, even despite the fate we've suffered against the Others, it's still about the games and power play, still about people who serve themselves at the cost of others - it often makes me wonder what the point is in all this... why did I fight if nothing can be changed? Why did I survive the Long Night? And even before that, why was I brought back? There are many questions, and yet I look at you -

He offers her a small smile, his other hand going up to caress her cheek. "I look at you and I think, there it is. There's all the answer I need. I'm alive because you are and I will keep on fighting if it means you remain so." He tilts her face a little so she's looking at him and so she can see that he means it when he says, "Because I love you, and I shall love you for as long as I breathe."

"I don't deserve your love, Jon," she tells him quietly, like she's ashamed, like this is what she's been avoiding all along -- like there's any truth to what she said at all.

He almost laughs at the insinuation that she's not worthy of him but he doesn't, instead a frown graces his brows in confusion. "Sansa, you can't truly believe that."

"I do believe that," she admits brokenly. "I'm ruined. I don't deserve to be loved at all."

He's tempted to call horseshit. He won't ever let Sansa believe, not even for a second, that she doesn't deserve anything less than complete devotion and love, but he decides that there are more eloquent ways to put it.

"Sweet girl, you deserve more than that," he tells her, gentle, his hand sliding up to the back of her neck to urge her forward, letting his forehead fall against hers. "Hell, Sansa, you deserve more than I can offer you -- but if you'll have me, I'll work to give you the world."

"I don't want the world." She says it in a way that suggests that there is something she wants, she's just not sure she should give voice to it.

"Then whatever you want, I'll give it to you," he promised, voice a gentle caress yet leaving no room to doubt his sincerity.

"I -- " she swallowed, eyes falling shut. Her arms come up around him, pressing him firmly to her as she finally - _finally_ \- lets herself feel. "I only want you."

He leaned back, pressing his lips between her brows to kiss away the crease that has formed there before he shares with her a secret he'd been keeping in all this time:

"Sweetling, I've been yours since Castle Black."

**Author's Note:**

> I MIGHT add a work to this, but I'm not sure. Writing in canon is a little difficult to me, haha.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! :D


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